


Maria Hill's Big Damn Problem

by RighteousNerd



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, F/F, F/M, Maria has a thing for Philinda, Multi, Pre-Series, Threesome - F/F/M, sex and swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 03:49:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4004734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RighteousNerd/pseuds/RighteousNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maria Hill has several problems and they all begin and end with Phil Coulson and Melinda May.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maria Hill's Big Damn Problem

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever smutty story. Many thanks to DDagent and Crazymaryt for both inspiration and encouragement.

Maria Hill has a problem. In point of fact, she has several problems, a few of which have ganged up to become one very big problem. 

She's nursing a beer, settled into an out of the way booth in her favorite out of the way bar. It's quiet tonight, but that's why SHIELD agents come to this bar: discretion, privacy, and to be left the fuck alone. Maria would very much like to be left the fuck alone. Why? Problems.

Normally, Maria is a problem solver. Flexibility, quick thinking, resourcefulness? Gold stars all around. In fact, it's how she's gotten as far as she has, being able to fix things before they need fixing. She did not, however, foresee this. How could she? Hell, she doesn't particularly know how to fix it now, and she needs it fixed, because the longer it remains a problem the bigger a problem it is. Like an avalanche. 

She takes a swig of her beer, and runs through her list again. Maria likes lists. They make her feel organized, and an organized Maria Hill is an unstoppable Maria Hill.

So, Problems, a masterlist:

1\. Melinda May. She was Maria's advanced hand-to-hand instructor for awhile back in the day, and most of their time together was spent with Melinda knocking Maria on her ass. Melinda May, with her illusive smiles and unflappable calm. There's probably nobody alive that Maria respects more. The woman holds danger in her hands with determined grace and a sheer discipline that is both impressive and intimidating (two feelings Maria doesn't admit to easily). All that power, coiled and controlled, ready to spring forward for either good or ill.

Maria doesn't know what it says about her that she so desperately wants to see Melinda come undone, but god help her, she does. She wants to see the other woman breathless, eyes dark with desire. She wants to feel those firm muscles quiver beneath her fingertips and scrape her teeth and tongue across the skin she's never seen but always imagined. She wants to hear her name on Melinda's lips and every other moan and gasp that she could pull from her.

Lust and respect are a heady combination any day, but now? Now Maria has seen what passion looks like on Melinda May and she can't stop thinking about it. The fact that it was neither caused by nor aimed at her is a problem.

2\. Phil Coulson. Most people don't look twice at Phil, but Maria isn't most people. At first glance, he's non descript, unassuming, an every man; this is his specialty, a disguise he wears as easily as he wears his suit. Maria has seen underneath the disguise. He's dangerously efficient and efficiently dangerous, two things she is distinctly into. But more than that he's a true and loyal friend, and his presence has been nothing but a steadying force in her life. Also it doesn't hurt that he's actually quite nice to look at and built solidly underneath those suits. Maria knows, they've sparred.

She and Phil work really well together, and would continue to work really well together if it weren't for one small problem: their last op together, aka the mission where Phil felt her up to maintain their cover. In all actuality, he did all but fuck her on that mission, his hands under her clothes and his tongue in her mouth. Their hips pressed squarely together, it had taken considerable will power not to move against him, to maneuver him until he was right there, right were she suddenly needed him to be.

The whole thing had even been her idea, and while their display had ensured the success of the mission, she could kick herself now. First hand knowledge of something you want but can't have is a bitch. And she does want him. He licks his lips in a meeting and all she can think about is what he can do with his tongue. He takes his gun apart at the range and she thinks about what else he could be taking apart with his hands. 

They're friends, and Maria doubts that sex would diminish the affection between the two. In fact, it would probably add to it. But, like most things, it's not that simple. She may want more, but he's not for her and that's a problem.

3\. Phil and Melinda are fucking. They seem to be fucking a lot. It's probably more than that, because it doesn't seem to be limited to clandestine hookups and kinky office sex. They work seamlessly together in the field, anticipating each other physically and communicating silently in a way that most partners dream of. They're perfect together, really. Yin and yang, a mix of stoicism and sarcasm, the will and the way, planning and execution. They've been close since Maria's known them, though she suspects the sex part might be new since they seem to be having so much of it, but it's so obvious that there's also a history there. Something between them that no one else can touch, no matter how much they might want to. Maria wants to.

The nature of the job sometimes has that effect, agents bond. Sometimes they have sex. It happens, and then everybody gets over it. SHIELD regulations on fraternization are really a "don't fuck up by fucking around" kind of warning. So Phil and Melinda are only really a problem if you're Maria. She doesn't know what she's feeling towards either of them, but of course she's feeling it toward two people who feel it solely for each other.

Maria sighs and signals Carlos behind the bar for another beer. The truth is, all of this she could probably handle. She's been there, done that; she's had crushes before and while pining sucks, it's not like it lasts forever. Maria always, always lands on her feet eventually. She could get over them, and probably would have already if it weren't for the really big problem:

4\. Maria keeps walking in on Phil and Melinda having sex. At first, it was small things, easily over looked. Locked office doors. Her flushed face. His mis-buttoned shirt. Them standing a little closer together than was strictly necessary. Not exactly office gossip. Quickies in the supply closet however, probably would have made the water cooler rounds, and would have quickly if it had been anybody other than Maria to walk in on them. 

She had only needed paper clips because, for some reason, she uses a surprising amount of paper clips. Really, there was no way to know what she was walking into. For two people screwing in the supply room, they were being surprisingly discrete. No sound or discernible cause for alarm from the other side of the door. For god's sake, it was a supply closet. A place for supplies. Not fucking against the wall.

It took two steps inside for her to register the suit and a half step more to register the tac suit clad body attached to it. By the time she heard the soft moan, the heavy mingled breaths and the sound of skin moving against skin, she had also noticed the suit pants around his ankles and her bare legs wrapped around his waist. 

Maria was out the door faster than it took to realize that she recognized that suit, though her mind did catch up eventually. Phil's sheepish grin and inability to meet her eyes at their afternoon meeting only confirmed it. Given the tac suit in question, well, that it had been Melinda was the only possible conclusion, though the specialist herself had given no sign or signal that she'd been caught literally with her pants down. And if the memory of the other woman's moans occasionally resurfaced, Maria did her best to put it all out of her mind completely.

If it had stopped at quickies in the supply room, she would have thought nothing of it. But then a mission had gone tits up in the most spectacular fashion. Bad intel, patchy coms, the three of them separated from the rest of the team in hostile territory, and then very quickly separated from each other. Maria had found Phil after he had gotten shot but before he had found Melinda. It was only a flesh wound, but the blood ran freely and openly down his arm and side, and he'd explained that he had gotten clipped in the shoulder trying to round back to her and Melinda's last known position. Adrenaline and worry had him running frantic, and while reuniting with her seemed to lend some reassurance, it wasn't until Melinda found them that Maria saw the equilibrium return to both her friends.

They'd managed to escape detection, and more or less limp to a SHIELD safe house. Maria and Melinda settled Phil into a chair, Melinda's fingers already removing his shirt as Maria dug around for a med kit. Phil was himself, although flesh wounds are never painless, telling rambling jokes about learning to take cover, his eyes fixed longingly on Melinda's. 

They were alive, they had made it, and breathing suddenly seemed to come so much easier for all of them. So Maria excused herself to update HQ. They needed to be briefed and she'd seen the look in the other woman's eyes as she'd gotten a look at the wound on Phil's shoulder. Danger and loss come with the job, but while it's one thing to face death on your own, out in the field your team becomes your family. You trust them with your life and are in turn trusted with theirs. Sometimes they don't come back, and it strips you raw and hollows you out. Every agent knows what it feels like after a mission goes south, and knowing how close the two of them were, Maria thought they might need a chance to reaffirm that they'd both made it, that they were still together.

As it turned out, she wasn't wrong, although there was no way she could have anticipated how quickly they could bandage his wound and get both their pants off. Talk about team work. She came back, having updated SHIELD on their condition, to find Melinda in Phil's lap. His bandaged arm was trapped between them and the other slung low around her waist, his fingers gripping her ass to help guide her hips as she ground down on him.

Melinda was speaking mandarin softly, the words coming faster as their hips rocked together. While Maria knew Phil didn't speak the language, she did, but even still could barely make out the terms of possessive endearment the other woman murmured. Phil might not have known the words, but he must have guessed their intent, for each syllable uttered seemed to have him moving within her faster, harder, until Melinda was no longer speaking but crying out, her body shuddering on top of him. 

Maria fled to the tiny bathroom, the closed door muffling the sound of Phil's orgasm. She ran the shower for as long as the hot water lasted, hoping to avoid the encore adrenaline would provide. And if, under the spray, Maria found her own release to her fingers and the memory of whispered mandarin, well, that wasn't anybody's business but her own.

After that, they were assigned to different units and months passed before they were even in the same building again. It was for the best, Maria had convinced herself, no longer under any delusion that she hadn't formed a preoccupation with her two friends. Time and space seemed to do her wonders, and Maria felt more focused than she had in months, though she had kept an ear out for any news concerning her two amorous colleagues. Their successes, both separate and together, were always newsworthy, but all gossip over the more personal aspects of their partnership continued to remain speculative. Maria offered nothing to the rumor mill herself, but did occasionally smirk privately at some of the more suggestive theories. If only they knew, she'd think. 

She was excited when she heard they were both due to return, sure that any and all infatuations had been laid to rest. Phil had returned first, just that day in fact, from a classified op in an undisclosed location. He'd been in constant briefings until finally being released to go home. While Maria had only a moment to offer a quick hello and the promise of a welcome back drink at some later time, she'd been enormously pleased to see her friend again. It had been good, she thought, normal even. So much so, that Maria hadn't felt any apprehension using her passcode to get into Coulson's office. There had been a mix up with his live action reports and, since Agent May was also due back from her own mission soon, Maria figured Phil would want it sorted before his attention was inevitably occupied. Her intention was to drop them quickly on his desk so that he could tend to it first thing, but (and she really shouldn't have been surprised by this) his desk was already in use. 

Maria froze. There was Melinda May, naked and spread across the smooth wooden surface of his desk, her hair fanned out atop the green blotter. And there was Phil, still fully clothed, though he had lost the jacket and tie and his dress sleeves were rolled neatly up his forearms. His face, from what Maria could see, was currently very, very engaged between Melinda's thighs. He had one hand between them, fingers buried within her and working in tandem with his tongue. The other hand was gripping tight underneath her, whether to hold the woman still or pull her closer, Maria couldn't tell. 

She knew should leave, kept telling herself to, but she didn't. She needed to move, but couldn't. She was paralyzed. Phil Coulson had Melinda May laid out before him and was fucking her with his fingers, his mouth firmly attached to the her clit, and Maria watched. His other hand snaked up to knead at Melinda's breast, the erect nipple rolling between his fingers, and still Maria didn't move. 

Melinda moaned. Maria moaned. Phil's eyes shot up towards hers. He pulled back, but didn't fully remove his fingers, instead letting them slip up May's slit to press against her clit. Melinda trembled against his fingers while Phil held Maria's gaze. 

Maria ran, finally. Didn't go back to her office, barely managed to sign out for the night, went immediately to the bar, do not pass go - do not collect $200; Maria ran. She downed the first drink that she ordered in one go, and that was four drinks ago. That's a lot of time to think, or in Maria's case, try not too. Because thinking? Thinking involves remembering Melinda May's hands gripping the sides of the desk and the look in Phil Coulson's eyes when they had snapped up to hers, lust turned to shock and then to recognition. Thinking means wondering what happened next. Would he have brought her to orgasm with just his mouth? Would she reciprocate, him in his chair and her on her knees? Or would he have brought her to the edge only to pull back and take her over his desk?

Thinking means recognizing the fact, that had she not been caught, she would have watched. Continued to watch. And that's the problem. The be all and end all of her entire list of problems. Not that her friends are hot, or that she in turn is hot for them. Not that said friends have a knack for picking inappropriate times and places to have sex. It's that she watched. Maria stood there and watched. And as if that wasn't bad enough, they caught her. 

How the hell are they going to work together after this? 

She's already mentally filling out the transfer paperwork to the fridge, which she knows without a doubt will be declined (Fury likes his people where he likes them - end of story), when one of the last fucking people she wants to see plops down across from her.

"So," Phil says, somehow managing to look both smug and sheepish. He's got at least a day's worth of scruff on his cheeks, and Maria can't help but wonder if he left stubble burn all over May's thighs. "Melinda's back."

She throws a handful of bar nuts at him, because why not, that's why. It's not very adult of her, but Maria's pretty sure he deserves it. Plus, they were conveniently located and efficiently made her point.

"Hey!" His hands fly up to cover his face. "You're the one who doesn't knock!"

"You're the one fucking around at work," she snaps, lobbing one last peanut. It hits him in the cheek and then falls somewhere under the table. "Do you have something against screwing at home? You know, like normal people?"

"And when was the last time any of us spent any amount of time at home? Or did anything remotely normal?"

He does have a point, Maria concedes, thinking of her mostly empty fridge and kitchen drawer full of take-out menus. Hell, she sees this bar more than she sees her own living room. "You couldn't have found another supply closet?"

"Because that worked so well last time." She's grateful that he misses her blush, his gaze having slid over to the bar where Melinda is ordering drinks. Melinda is fully clothed, obviously, but now that Maria's seen her naked, well, she'd be lying if she said it wasn't a picture indelibly etched into her brain. "Besides, can you blame me?"

She can't blame either of them, not really. Another problem for the list (she'll call it 3a). The fact that's she's still adding to the damn thing is really starting to piss her off. "You know what? How about you don't talk? I'm mad at you."

"That's fair, but I think we both know I'm not going to stop talking."

Melinda slides into the booth next to him, reaching up to pull a bar nut from where it had landed in his collar. She drops it on the table next to the beer.

"She's mad at us," Phil explains.

"Fine, but she's the one who doesn't knock." 

"That's what I said!" He says, and he looks so openly smitten that Maria kind of wants to punch him. Or kiss him. She doesn't do either, because nobody in their right mind would punch Coulson in May's presence, and kissing him probably would have even more unfortunate consequences, but still. "I was also about to point out that the door was locked for that specific reason."

Melinda doesn't respond so much in words, but Maria notices the flick of the eyes and the barely there twitch of the mouth. What's more, she notices that Phil notices. And that's when she knows what they're doing. It's their own version of good cop/bad cop: chatty cop/stoic cop. It's legendary, this bit they do, and really quite effective for intelligence gathering. Maria has never been on this side of it before, and already it's getting super fucking annoying.

"Let not do this. Let's not play all these games," Maria interrupts quickly. "Why don't you just ask me what you want to ask me?" 

"Are you alright?" Melinda asks. She's always been refreshingly straight to the point, although she can absolutely obfuscate with the best of them. Be direct with her and she'll be direct with you. Among other things, Maria has always admired that.

"Fine," Maria says, and it sounds terse even to her. A definite code for not-fine. Shit.

"This isn't what fine looks like on you," Melinda says evenly, and Maria calculates the odds of successfully arguing the point as next to impossible so she doesn't bother.

"It will be fine. Our working relationship won't be a problem," She offers, hoping like hell that it's true. 

"What about our non working relationship?" Phil asks, gesturing between the three of them. "Is there a problem there?"

"You mean, besides the fact that neither of you can apparently keep your fucking pants on?"

"And we are sorry about that," Phil says. He's very sincere, and its both endearing and frustrating. "It's embarrassing, uncomfortable... awkward. I would understand if you're angry."

Make that mostly frustrating. "But?" 

"But you're not just angry. You're upset."

"Yes, because I walked in on you having sex. Again."

"At this rate, somebody was bound to find us out." Melinda offers, and its so matter of fact that Maria has to remind herself what they are actually talking about. Seriously, how much sex have they been having at base? When she thinks of all the quiet, out of the way places at OPs alone...

"It's not just somebody, it's me."

"It's only you," Phil agrees. "Bad luck?"

"Bad luck?" Maria can't for the life of her figure out why they're being so blase. She never had either of them pegged as being exhibitionists but then she never would have thought of herself as being particularly into watching. Well. "Bad luck? Have you guys been doing this on purpose?"

"Of course not," Melinda says, dismissing the idea outright. "We've actually been very discreet."

Maria wants to argue with that (really? and how discrete did the supply closet turn out to be?) but Phil is already adding, "At this point, we could ask you the same thing."

"Excuse me? I have not been purposefully walking in on you and your... whatever having sex."

"Lover?" Phil asks Melinda, leaning in just that much closer. They're not sitting so close to be indecent, but Maria is still annoyingly aware of every touch and every brush against eachother, almost enough so to be distracted.

The other woman winces. "Girlfriend."

"Nice," Phil says, grinning. He looks back up at Maria, as if their little interlude had been a completely private moment between the two of them. It hadn't been. "Nobody said you did, just that we could ask you the same thing."

"Well, I didn't," Maria reiterates. Let the record show that she never chose a life of voyeurism, but that it chose her. Whatever else has happened, she thinks, that is at least true.

"Look," He says, and he seems suddenly very much at a loss. "We didn't come here to interrogate you."

"We wanted to see if you were alright," Melinda adds.

"So much for your intentions."

Phil sighs. "We do have a problem, don't we?"

"Yeah, we have a problem," She agrees, because at this point there's no reason not to. They're caught and she's caught. Maria had hoped that they could just ignore it like the reasonable spies they are, but no, now there's no getting around it.

"How do we fix it?" Melinda asks. "I think I can safely speak for both of us when I say we don't want to lose you as a friend."

"I don't know." Maria says.

"We won't have sex at work anymore," Phil offers. 

"You shouldn't do that anyway!" Maria laughs, and it almost feels normal. Phil made a joke and she laughed, what could be more normal? Except it's not normal. How can it be, when she's so preoccupied with his mouth and where it's been? "I don't think it's that simple."

"So simplify it," Melinda urges.

Looking at their faces now, Maria knows she only has one option. Her gaze has lingered too long on lips, on fingertips, the silhouette of skin moving beneath cloth. They've noticed, and she's noticed them noticing. They are all very, very observant. So she tells the truth. "I don't even know if I'm upset because you're sleeping with him or if it's because he's sleeping with you."

For their part, neither of them look too surprised by her confession. The only real tell that they are is that Phil hasn't said anything yet. There's a perverse joy to be found in rendering him speechless and Maria tries to enjoy it whenever she manages it. Call it a minor payback. While Phil flounders for a response, Melinda regards her thoughtfully, and it's that expression that has Maria on the edge of her seat.

"Well that's not so bad." She says quietly, finally. Maria doesn't know what that means, hell, it's obvious the Phil doesn't even know what that means. It's equally obvious he trusts his partner without fail, by both the look in his eyes and the way he meets her eagerly when she pulls him in for a kiss. It's sweet and short, and it makes Maria feel a deep, uncomfortable pang of longing. 

And then Melinda is moving out and around the booth to slide in next to her. Maria doesn't move, doesn't give an inch. This is her booth, her evening, and she would have been fine, probably, without either of them showing up.

"Do you trust me? Us?" The question is delivered softly, but they know each other well enough that she can feel the firm purpose behind it. Melinda has a plan. Maria nods, because she really, really wants to trust them. 

There's no real time to process Melinda May leaning up and pressing her lips against Maria's, only soft lips finding hers, one firm hand coming to briefly caress her cheek, and then nothing. It's over.

Well what the hell is she supposed to do with that?

"I don't want your pity." Maria says and can hear the defensiveness in every word. Whether it's feeling exposed (she can appreciate the irony) or it's because suddenly theres this need in her chest that she didn't know she had and doesn't know what to do with. Or maybe it's because Melinda May is still holding her hand while looking up at her with neither challenge nor sympathy, and Phil Coulson is sitting across the table looking like he would follow them both anywhere. It's too much to hope.

"I don't fuck people out of pity," the other woman promises, and it's suddenly very, very real what they are offering. She looks to Phil.

"It's not charity," he confirms. "If it's not something you want, that's fine. Our apologies and we will never bring it up again. But if we can help you fix the problem..."

"And you would both be okay with that? Sharing your girlfriend or boyfriend?"

"Maybe we want to share you with each other," she says, and it's just the right amount of calm assurance and exact promise that it makes Maria a little weak in the knees.

"I need to think about it." 

"Of course."

"You know where to find us." Phil tells her, sliding out and away from the booth. Melinda gives her hand a squeeze, and then she's gone. 

Maria watches until they're out of sight, and then reaches across the table to snag Coulson's abandoned beer. She's going to say yes, of course she's going to say yes. All rational debate on the subject left her when she walked in on Phil's face between Melinda's legs. It's possibly the worst idea ever, given who they are and what they do, but she wants it. She wants it so bad she can practically taste it, and the fact they seem to be offering her a very literal taste is either the solution or an entirely new set of problems in of itself.

She's going to need a new list.


End file.
